Never Surrender
by r2roswell
Summary: An AU of Beckett's past. We all have our ways of coping with life's problems. Kate Beckett is no different but her ways don't fit in "traditional" or "normal" methods of coping. She's never told anyone and no one has asked. Until now.
1. Author's Note A

**Author's Note A**

_1. Trigger Warning_

The subject you're about to read deals with the act of self harm. Details are conveyed in a realistic way. I did it for reasons you shall see in the last author's note section.

_2. Partial AU_

It's AU in the sense that we know that the character never actually dealt with this kind of problem. I wrote it as part of a healing process for myself. Again you shall see in the last author's note section.

It's also AU in the sense that the character mentioned getting a tattoo when he/she was between 16 and 17. For purposes of the story I have changed that to the age of 20.


	2. 1

**[Ch. 1: January 9, 1999]**

And just like that, with one unwanted visit, nineteen year old Katherine Beckett's life was shattered into a trillion pieces. Upon their arrival to their home a Detective Raglan had been at the door to tell her and her father, Jim Beckett, about her mother being found dead in an alley.

How could such a big change have unraveled so quickly? Just hours ago she and her father had been waiting at a restaurant where Johanna was supposed to meet them for dinner. They waited for two hours but she never showed.

Now they sat in silence in the living room, the detective having gone. Raglan said they weren't going to pursue her mother's case. Given the location where Johanna was found, the odds favored a run in with gang violence so there wasn't much they could do. They weren't even going to look to who stabbed her.

Kate tightened her grip on the edge of the couch. She hated that cops were just packaging away her mother as if she didn't matter, as if she were just another victim of an un-punishable crime.

She needed her father and he needed her but Kate's head felt like it was about to explode.

She abruptly got up from her seat and made her way to her room, desperately needing some alone time.

* * *

><p>There would be plenty of that though she thought as she paced her room. Her mom was dead. There would be no more family dinners, no more late night girl talks- awkward or otherwise. The life she had known was completely gone.<p>

Kate moved and sat on her bed, trying to calm herself. Music might help but she didn't want the noise. She could try to distract herself but the ones she thought of seemed pointless.

There was only one thing and Kate hated for even thinking about it but it was the very thing she felt she needed.

Kate walked over to her closet and moved some boxes on the top shelf until she came to the one she was looking for: It looked like any random cardboard sized photo box but the look of it was deceptive to throw anyone off in case they saw it.

She brought it down and moved to her bed. There she removed the lid and the first thing in the box was a white towel.

She removed the towel, a second cover, to reveal her precious contents. What seemed like any generalized first aid kit filled with bandages, medication, and alcohol wipes, was anything but. The box of Tylenol tablets was deceptive just like the rest of the photo box/first aid kit. Carefully Kate opened the Tylenol box and emptied the contents on the lid; a pack of unopened razors.

Kate's pulse raced. She hadn't had a use for them in nearly six months, the behavior having started in her teens, though early then not as severe as it got in the later years.

To her it didn't make sense. She had good friends, she was a good student, and she had the best parents any kid could have asked for and yet it had come to be the way she dealt with situations.

For the most part she had gotten away with her behavior, a teacher in high school even calling her "one of those" after catching a glimpse of a bandage on her arm and Kate saying she'd had an accident, but the teacher never having helped despite knowing.

Come time for college Kate thought it was over, that it was a phase and that she didn't need it anymore but one little trigger was all it took to start the cycle all over again.

After that relapse six months ago she swore she was done for good but six months ago her mother had still been alive, six months ago seemed like there were logical reasons to quit.

Not tonight though.

No amount of music or poetry or friends or being with her father during his own grief or the thought of a heavy drink despite being under age, or any other distraction at her disposal seemed good enough.

The only source of 'medication' that felt right, was the blade looking up at her, waiting like that old teddy bear tossed in the attic but you couldn't get rid of because of the significance it held.

Kate took one of the alcohol wipes and ripped it open. She reached for the blade, a fresh one having added it to the depleted stock, having used her final blade the last time. Rhythmically she wiped the alcohol pad on the blade, careful not to cut herself. There would be time for that in a bit.

After that part of her ritual was complete, Kate found a spot on her arm, one of few blank canvasses on her arm not covered in scars, and let the urge take over.


	3. 2

**[Chapter 2: Now Part I]**

_The moment we met, my life became extraordinary. You taught me more about myself than I knew there was to learn. You are the joy in my heart. You're the last person I wanna see every night before I close my eyes. I love you, Katherine Beckett and the mystery of you is the one I wanna spend the rest of my life exploring._

It had been eight weeks, nearly nine since Castle had said those words to her at their wedding.

As she lay there in bed with him, she thought of how much mystery there still was that Castle had not discovered or been too nervous to ask about. She often thought the latter, not just with him but with anyone who happened to catch a glimpse of her scars- though now somewhat faded, were still visible after all this time and which was most of the time when she didn't wear shirts with long sleeves.

People saw but no one asked or made a comment.

It had been years since she'd stopped. It was on Beckett's mind now with today being January 9th, the day her mother had died: The first anniversary that wouldn't come with rage or hatred; her mother's killer having been brought to justice. For once it would be an anniversary that would be normal, at least as normal as it was for a person to lose a parent.

As she and Castle lay in bed her body, partially covered with a sheet, her bare right leg sticking out and her head and arm laying on his chest, Castle traced one of the visible keyloid scars on her arm just above the top part of her wrist.

It still itched sometimes and even tugged but Beckett just shrugged them off as side effects to the trauma she'd put herself through.

"You never talk about them," said Castle.

Them. Of course he'd know every inch of her body. They'd been intimate for nearly three years now. He had traced every curve, every freckle, every line, every scar.

"You've never asked," Beckett said with a smile.

"Some buttons shouldn't be pushed," Castle replied.

"Like you pushing the buttons on my mother's murder when I asked you not to," she said half teasing.

"Fair enough but where would you have been had I not come along and pushed?"

"Probably the same place I was before we met," Beckett admitted.

Silence followed as Castle continued to trace the keyloid and some of the other scars on her arm.

"You want to know?" she admitted as she looked up at him.

Castle looked into his wife's eyes. "Only if you want to tell me. If it's something you're not ready for, that's okay too. I can wait."

"No I want to tell you. Just not here okay? There's some place I need to be and I want you with me."

Castle smiled, "Okay, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Beckett removed the sheet that was covering her body, now completely exposed.

"I think I'm going to like this trip," Castle said all ready hovering over her.

"Easy there cowboy, this is just a pit stop."

Sensually, Beckett ran her hand down her stomach to where it came to a rest along the right side of her hip. In a horizontal line was a butterfly with a thin trail. The words 'Vincit Omnia Veritas' were written in a Palace Script font just over the trail that curved down to the edge of her pelvis.

"I never did tell you how happy I was when you finally showed me your tattoo," Castle said with a wide smile.

Beckett rolled over so that she was on top.

"Remember what it says," she told him.

"Honey, I memorized it the first time I saw it."

Beckett smiled and leaned down to kiss him. As much as she would have loved to have spent her day off in bed with him, there were still important things she needed to do. She could feel Castle was ready and could feel herself begin to get wet at just the thought of him inside her but instead of giving in to their urge for each other Beckett easily got off her husband and made her way to the bathroom. She turned to Castle, placing a hand on the wall as she looked at him.

"You coming," she asked with a coy smile.

She wouldn't mind her husband helping her as she showered.

Castle smiled too and was quick out of the bed and followed.


	4. 3

**[Chapter 3: Now Part II]**

The day was an unusually cold one. A winter snow storm had pummeled most of the city. Still it wasn't enough to dampen Beckett's plan.

Snow covered every walkway and the tops of most of the headstones at the cemetery. It could have been easily to get lost but in an unfortunate way, Beckett had come countless times on days like today that it was easy to find her way.

"Castle, this is my mom," Beckett said after dusting the snow off the top of Johanna's gravestone. "Mom, this is Rick Castle, my husband."

Butterflies flew in her stomach as she called him that. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing that word used for him in relation to her.

"She would have loved you, Castle," Beckett said with a smile. "She liked some of the boyfriends I had in high school but I could tell she wasn't crazy about them, a little more accepting than my dad but not quite enough."

"So I take it Rebel Becks loved the Rebel Boys, like in The Outsiders?"

"Something like that," Beckett said with a smile, "but I liked the fun ones too. That's how I know she would have approved of you."

Beckett turned to look down at the grave, her smile fading. "I started cutting when I was thirteen. Nothing major, more like nicks really from pushpins, small stuff so it wouldn't look bad in case anyone asked, enough to pass off as a paper cut. It got pretty intense during my junior and senior year of high school. Sometimes regular band-aids to cover them, other time the white wrap bandages.

My parents knew and they tried to help but they couldn't get me to stop.

I did stop after I graduated high school though. With college coming up I tried to convince myself that I was over it." Beckett gave a small smile to Castle. "I managed to stop for six months. That was the longest I'd gone without it." Castle smiled back as Beckett returned her focus to the grave. "But then my mom… And it opened that box I thought I had closed. I didn't even think when I did it. I didn't stop to wonder if that's what she would have wanted. The only thing I knew was that nothing could help except for that.

My dad suddenly had his drinking and I had my cutting." She shook her head, "I know it sounds stupid."

Castle reached for her hand, "Hey everyone has their ways of dealing with what life throws at them. Who am I to judge? I do have to ask though, doesn't it hurt?"

Beckett half smiled at him not judging her and the question he asked was a valid one. "Not really. It's like this rush, one I couldn't get any other way. It would make the world stop spinning for a while- all the stress, all the bad things that happened; it was all gone in those few moments. There's a sense of euphoria and pleasure. The body has this natural way of producing endorphins which are basically the body's pain killers so there was no feeling of pain, instead only something that was pleasurable. It's what made it so hard to stop."

Beckett knew she was talking like an addict but she wanted him to understand, to know what it felt like even if he couldn't actually feel it firsthand. Cutting was an addiction even though it wasn't considered a traditional or normal addiction like alcohol or drugs.

Even now Beckett struggled. A few years ago during a difficult time after she'd gotten shot, she had cut herself on a shard of broken glass. The blood and the way she'd bandaged her arm had brought back those memories of her time cutting.

"After my mom's death," Beckett continued, "It went on for a year. By then I saw what my dad's drinking was doing to him and I knew we both couldn't be useless anymore. A year later and my dad got sober. It had also been a year since I'd cut so I wanted to do something that would honor what I'd put myself through. Getting a tattoo seemed like a good idea and getting these words," she said motioning to the words on the gravestone, "was a no brainer. Not only could I honor my mom but I could also conquer all the truth of my own history, that despite the cutting there could come a time when I could never surrender to it."

Beckett smiled again at Castle, "I haven't cut since."

Castle smiled and wrapped his arms around his wife. She stood there, her head placed softly on his chest. Neither of them said a word for a minute as Castle continued to keep her in his embrace.

"I'm proud of you, Kate. You continue to amaze me. It couldn't have been easy going through all of that but you survived it. So what if you have the scars, they're apart of who you are. They're battle scars just like your bullet and surgical scars."

Beckett backed up, still staying in his arms but looking at him, "So you're not bothered by them?"

"I'm always gonna wish I had been there for you and wish you hadn't gone through that sure but if I was bothered I would have run out a long time ago. I love you too much to ever do that."

Beckett smiled at her husband. How had she gotten so damn lucky with him?

"You're mom would be proud of you too."

Beckett got on her tip toes and leaned up to reach him, letting their lips meet gently.

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

"Thank you for telling me."

Beckett reached down for his hands and held them, "Let's go home."

* * *

><p>END<p> 


	5. Author's Note B

**Author's Note B**

There is one very simple explanation as to why I wrote this: RECOVERY.

I am coming up on my 1 year anniversary without SI (self injury). I've never made it that far so to me it's kind of a big deal. Something I just want to honor and shout off the top of the rooftops if I could (I don't shout).

And what better way to honor that than fanfiction- which is what I do. I have admired Detective Kate Beckett for 4 years (I swear it feels like I've been a fan of the show for all 7). I don't have many mentor's in my own RL so I often find I look to fictional ones and Kate has become that. She's a woman I admire. In that sense it seems kind of wrong to put her through what went on in the story but it made sense to me because of how much I look up to her. Add in a little something that I, and I'm sure maybe even some of you out there can relate to.

Several of the details in the story were true and accurate from my own experiences with SI. I in fact did have a teacher in high school who called me "one of those". At the time though it wasn't cutting but wall punching so I would have wraps on my arm and hand. To me it was easier that people see that than to see the swelling and bruising that the wall punching caused.

My transition into cutting began in college. I no longer had easy access to wall punching because of where I lived so cutting seemed like the most logical go to since I could do it in the privacy of my own locked bathroom.

This whole SI thing took up half my life. I started when I was 12 and stopped when I was 25. I've gone periods of 6 months where I won't do it and then something triggers me and it starts all over. This will be the first time I've gone a full year.

If you read the story then you saw that Beckett's tattoo wasn't just any tattoo but a Recovery Tattoo which she gets a year after she's gone without SI. Mine is off by just a few months. I'd wanted to get a tattoo from the time I was 15 but nothing felt right but I knew I wanted to get it while I was 25, just felt like a good number. Considering the 10 years I had to think about it the idea started to form of a Recovery Tattoo since I was getting closer and closer to my one year mark. And so I did get it, two days shy of my 26th birthday.

It's why I gave the story the title "Never Surrender" as that's what I have tattooed on my arm (that's half of my tattoo, I also got something else as part of my Recovery Tat). It's a song title by the band Skillet who have helped me in more ways than I could ever imagine or even begin to thank and praise enough. I listened to their music when I tried to get out of an SI episode or during or after, the song "Never Surrender" usually being the one song of theirs that I mostly played, though there were certainly others.

In terms of the story it made sense that Beckett would somehow honor what she's been through.

So in a nut shell there's my own story, my own history with battling SI and how this story came to be.


End file.
